No Recipe for a Relationship
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: After resisting Worth's inelegant advances, Conrad gives an ultimatum. Worth goes a session with the therapist of Conrad's choosing. Conrad sleeps with Worth however Worth likes. Problem? She's a hypnotherapist. It was just one suggestion... Conworth.


AN: This is a long one. I'm not breaking it up. It covers a time span of just over two years, and I considered breaking it at the year mark but decided that was not going to work. This was written for a "contest" over on ygallery. Lunanightwolf wrote a small first chapter of a story and challenged any takers to continue it with a second chapter. This wasn't supposed to be a chapter; it was supposed to be an entire story. Her prompt included far too many things that I didn't like and didn't think would ever happen. Worth cleaned up. Worth reformed. Worth in an actual relationship with Conrad. Worth celebrating a two year anniversary with anyone. Conrad sleeping with Toni. Worth catching him at it and actually crying over it (I think my Worth would be more likely to fucking join in whether they liked it or not). Most importantly, Worth crying at all. Everyone knows he doesn't actually possess tear ducts!

But I can never resist a challenge, so I came up with a way to make all of these things "work" in my headcanon for the comic. I'm warning you right now, this is a mind control story. I posted it to ygal first and managed to genuinely disturb some people, but they all claimed to simultaneously love it. So if you can suspend your disbelief over Worth seeing a therapist (come on that is hilarious) until I bring you back two years into the past, then welcome to my tale.

I also want to say, I'm not happy with the ending. My Worth is very vindictive, and just how vindictive he is doesn't seem to be clear. I will be doing something about that in the future, just you wait and see. That all said, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name belongs to the marvelous Tessa Stone, and no copyright infringement is intended nor is any money being made by yours truly. Here we go guys.

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NO RECIPE FOR A RELATIONSHIP

-by: Lira-

.

Worth shredded the roses on his way back to his office. The bowtie he jerked free with one yank, so he could actually breathe. He'd known he'd done it up too tight, but it had seemed like the only way to keep it on straight. He was not thinking, even fancied he could hear a peaceful static crackling between his ears. He let himself into the clinic and locked the door behind him, something he never did because no one would ever break into /his/ clinic, not when half the controlled substances were mislabeled and a thief was more likely to poison himself than profit.

Worth sat down at his desk, and it was at that point that he noticed the tear tracks carving a path down his cheeks. He... Hadn't even noticed really. His brain hadn't been bent to be wrapped around this sort of occurrence. As he thought more, just waiting for the pieces, one solution rose up through the murk that was his brain. Call his therapist. Somehow, over the past two years, that had become the solution to anything arising that did not fit into his world view. Call her. Talk to her. Schedule a meeting.

Worth pulled out his cell phone and pressed the third speed dial. He only had three speed dials, anyway. Lamont. Conrad. And Ellen Paige.

-.

Worth did not question when Ellen called him into her office that very evening, even though it was almost nine o'clock at night. Of course, her office was a remodeled portion of her private home, so it wasn't like it was any inconvenience to the hypnotherapist.

"Luce," she greeted him at the door, wearing one of her voluminous sweaters that he knew she knitted herself. It was emerald green that night.

"Aye need ter talk," he told her bluntly, without preamble.

"Of course, we covered that much on the phone," she agreed, moving out of the way and letting him into the house. Her green sweater was accompanied by green athletic pants and fuzzy green slippers. Worth found himself staring at the slippers in stricken fascination. It was just like her.

Ellen led him into the office, where Worth reflexively moved over to the couch and perched on it. Ellen rolled her chair over next to him and sat down beside him. For a few long moments they only stared at each other, and then Worth grumped and stretched out on the couch, rolling so he was still facing her. He knew the procedure; he'd follow procedures in order to get what he came for.

"Would you like to talk first?" Ellen asked him, in her low, soothing "working" voice. "Or should we start by dropping into the first level of the trance?"

Worth considered. He knew by then that therapy was supposed to be about trust, and give-and-take, and probably actually talking to your therapist at a time when you would remember what was said. But it was only the hypnotism that worked, like some sort of insanely powerful drug. This Worth never developed a tolerance for. Each time was like the first time, and it kept Worth coming back over the months – now years.

"Git on wiv th' trance," Worth told her, finding himself almost mimicking her tone of voice.

They had tried various techniques at the start, but the one that worked for Worth was just a simple silver pocketwatch on a chain. Ellen pulled it out of her pocket, as if she'd known exactly this would happen. She let it drop down from her hand, the silver ring at the opposite end slid down one of her fingers. As Worth watched, she began to swing the instrument gently back and forth.

"Listen to the sound of my voice," Ellen murmured. "Let the sound of my voice wash over you, and think about only this. Let your thoughts quiet, and let your mind empty. Nothing else matters. Let go. Nothing else matters. Feel at peace. Nothing else matters. When I clap my hands, you will wake up from the trance, but for now, let yourself go. You are sinking deeper. One. You are sinking deeper. Two. You are sinking deeper. Three. You are in my power, but you are safe."

Worth didn't remember anything past that.

-.

Worth was sitting in his chair in his clinic, shuffling a pack of index cards. There were no patients, and he was presently without anything worthwhile to do. His default in that situation was usually to break out the liquor or his favorite scalpel and entertain himself. But for the past couple of weeks, his scalpel just had not quite been cutting it.

The door to the clinic creaked open, and Conrad poked his head in, setting eyes on Worth before stepping the rest of the way inside. Conrad still looked sheepish, every time he came to Worth for blood. And every time Conrad had come, Worth had been unable to help thinking about Conrad's awkward little fang, and whether or not that would hurt if Conrad bit him. He thought about tearing flesh and leaking blood, about wounds that wouldn't heal because that same pointed canine would rip back into them and keep them fresh and not even quite scabbed over. He realized that he spent a lot of time thinking about being bitten, and tried to insist to himself that it was just thinking about pain, a calm familiarity, and not about Conrad in particular causing him pain.

After Worth goaded and pressed and yelled until Conrad did bite him, so that it hurt almost more than he had been expecting – better than he had been expecting, even – he'd had to admit that maybe yeah, Conrad doing the biting was a vital part of the fantasy. It was only enhanced by the actual experience, so that Worth goaded and connived and coaxed even more, every time Conrad came by. If he had his way, Conrad wouldn't lay hands on another baggie of blood in his afterlife.

Conrad sidled over to where Worth sat in his chair, opening his mouth surely so he could try and ask for bagged blood. He always did. Conrad would never /ask/ if Worth would share a mouthful or two. Worth always had to make him do it.

"Yer hungry, princess?" Worth asked, sitting back in his chair as if he was very much comfortable.

Conrad fidgeted and looked away, like he couldn't admit even that. "You know I need some food, Worth, why do you always have to do this," he muttered, so that it wasn't quite a question, while still looking away.

"Yeh doan' like bein' dependent, Connie?" Worth continued, a leer painting itself across his face.

"You know I don't!" he snapped, but without meeting Worth's gaze.

"Say 'pretty please,'" Worth told him.

At that Conrad looked at him, his expression livid. Worth could see his fists clenching, Conrad just building himself up to some snappy remark.

Worth didn't wait for it. He shoved his chair back and stood up, strolling around his desk so that he could move right into Conrad's personal space. He then draped an arm around Conrad's shoulders and pushed his face in real close, until their noses were almost touching.

"If yeh cain't even ask polite-like, 's if yeh got manners," Worth told him. "Ah'm not gunna letcha bite me."

"I never said I wanted to!" Conrad yelped. "Honestly, why must you always assume that all I want is to sink my-"

But Conrad broke off abruptly, because Worth had leaned that last small distance forward and bit him on his earlobe, hard. When he pulled back, Conrad glared at him, but the arm braced against Conrad indicated that the vampire's knees had just gone weak a little.

"Yer hungry," Worth said, low and almost soothing. "An' lookit that. A pulse. Righ'... Here..."

Worth tilted his neck to the side, pulling back his collar with his free hand so that Conrad would have a very nice view. There were already two old bite marks, neither of which had really healed properly at all. It probably wasn't helped by Worth's tendency to open the wounds back up when Conrad wasn't around. He could hear the sharp intake of Conrad's breath, a very telling sign when the vampire didn't need to breathe in the first place.

"Go on," Worth crooned, subversively. "Jes' a lil' bite."

Conrad licked his lips, quickly, and tried to look away. But just as quickly his gaze was drawn back, riveted to the livid marks he had already left there. Worth watched as he started to lean in, then jerked himself back, before leaning forward oh-so-slowly once again.

It was easier each time, and each time Worth had to push Conrad less. It helped when the vampire held out on him, when Conrad took his time about coming by for food and was hungry enough that his resistance caved too easily. And this time was no different. After that bit of vacillation, Conrad's hand came up to clutch at Worth's arm, latching on tight, and his mouth moved towards Worth's neck with perfect purpose. When he bit down, his fang slid in clean.

Worth might have liked it better if it tore, but for the moment he was fine with that level of pain, with being pierced and feeling the suction of Conrad's mouth worrying at the wound. Conrad pushed forward while he was drinking, pressing his body flush against Worth. This had happened the past couple of times, Conrad clinging to him thoughtlessly for that brief duration. It really, really did not help the degree to which this was fantasy, a lush fiction that Worth's brain had fleshed out almost without his permission.

The fantasy was creeping in around the edges, building the situation up into something it was not. It was giving Worth an erection, a pressing need that was currently pressing into Conrad with how close their two bodies had been brought. And Conrad seemed not to notice, intent as he was on his feeding, and Worth was starting to see stars, little bright flashes around the edges of his vision that came with the blood loss. He would have to pull away soon, or risk passing out.

Worth had gotten wood before during these encounters – in fact, it was more of a certainty than a surprise occurrence – and always had to deal with a bit of awkwardness from Conrad afterward. But this time, as Conrad's body shifted and his mouth moved over the wound, Worth realized he could feel Conrad's dick pressing against him. For fuck's sake... What was Conrad getting so embarrassed about all of these times if the fucking fag was thinking along the same train of thought?

Worth liked embarrassing Conrad, in his own way, liked acting like it was no big deal he had a fucking boner and why was Conrad so disturbed? And just pushing it until Conrad caved and started yelling at him and tried to run away. And Worth would just laugh, and smirk, and jerk off in his grimy bathroom after Conrad left. In his head, it was a pretty sweet deal. Hell, he found Conrad's mortification even more arousing than if Conrad had simply reciprocated easily.

Or Worth had thought the mortification was more attractive, but Conrad shoving his dick at Worth was causing him to rapidly reassess that opinion. He'd change his mind in a heartbeat in exchange for a blowjob. A blowjob involving one wickedly pointed fang? He'd sign up for that, no questions ask, and maybe even goad Conrad into biting him there a little bit, too. Thrust into Conrad's mouth whether or not Conrad was ready to take him and not mind for a second if he was gouged in the process.

At that point Conrad pulled his mouth free, and Worth's dick was aching something awful in his pants. Conrad's hand on Worth's arm loosened, and Conrad opened his eyes to look up at Worth. A moment later he must have realized he was hard and pressing into Worth, and that Worth therefore knew all about his predicament. Worth swore Conrad would have flushed if he could, and even then there was some pink in his cheeks that was probably Worth's own blood.

"It's not what you think," Conrad muttered, looking away.

"An' jes' wot d'yeh think Ah'm thinkin'?" Worth asked, far too amused.

"You're probably thinking that I'll sleep with you," Conrad retorted, hotly. "That you can manipulate me into... Into doing this, so just how much harder could it be to get me to... I don't know. You're the depraved one."

Considering that it was pretty much exactly what Worth was thinking... Well, that made it a bit difficult to just spit out a sarcastic response and then see if he could get his hands into Conrad's pants.

"So yer gunna go jerk off somewhere instead?" Worth suggested bluntly. "'Cause Ah've a bathroom righ' here, save yeh th' trip."

"I- No!" Conrad exclaimed angrily. "God, stop it. You probably just want to listen."

"Are yeh sayin' yer loud, Connie?" Worth asked, now even more amused.

"I wasn't saying anything!" Conrad exclaimed again, becoming louder. "I'm leaving! Okay? I'm leaving, fuck you, fuck you so much Worth."

"If tha's an offer, Connie, yeh had better stick aroun'," Worth said.

Conrad huffed loudly and took a large step away from Worth, placing some distance between them. He then brushed his arms off, as if being in contact with Worth had dirtied him. Which, hell, Conrad might genuinely believe that.

"Yeh'd be in good hands," Worth told Conrad with a leer. "Remember, Ah'm a doctor."

Conrad gave a little shudder at that, and Worth genuinely couldn't tell if it was attraction or revulsion.

"Wot, yeh doan' want ter dirty yerself?" Worth taunted, groping for something that would make Conrad angry again.

"I don't want to do it at all!" Conrad yelped, like he was starting to feel threatened.

"Wot, wiv anyone?" Worth asked, moving forward into Conrad's space again.

"No! Not with anyone!" Conrad yelped, taking a few more steps back. A moment later a stunned look appeared on his face, as if he'd just realized what he'd said.

"Never?" Worth asked, somewhere between amused and horrified.

Conrad crossed his arms defensively, and stood his ground when Worth came in too close again. He turned his face away, refusing to say anything more. Worth, impatient, reached out and turned Conrad's chin to face him, refusing to let go even when he persuaded Conrad's head to turn.

"Yer a lil' virgin," Worth told Conrad, so that it wasn't even a question. "Yer a lil' virgin an' someone's act'lly seein' yeh sportin' wood, in public an' all, an' yer /mortified./"

The horrorstruck expression on Conrad's face was confirmation enough.

"C'mon Connie," Worth crooned. "Yeh could 'ave yer firs' wiv a /doctor./"

Conrad laughed nervously, sounding like a higher pitched version of Lamont, and stumbled back farther while jerking out of Worth's grip. Worth simply backed him all the way into a wall and pinned him there.

"My therapist said, okay! Stop it! Worth fucking stop it!" Conrad was practically yelling as he spat the words out, while simultaneously trying to sink closer to the wall.

"Therapist?" Worth echoed. That was rich. "Wot d'yeh need a therapist fer?"

"None of your fucking business," Conrad snapped automatically.

"Suit yerself," Worth said, enjoying himself too much to care. "So yer therapist told yeh not ter fuck me? Yeh talk ter yer therapist abou' me Connie?"

"That wasn't what I meant," Conrad said defensively. "I mean she's said that I need to be in a nurturing relationship before I even try and enter into any sexual behaviors with another person."

Again Conrad's mouth was running away from him, for a moment later he realized what he'd said, and he clamped both hands over his mouth. He looked like he wanted to die. Again, and for real that time.

"An' wot's more nurturin' than th' fellow wot feeds yeh so yeh doan' up an' starve?" Worth asked, albeit not in seriousness.

He was somewhat surprised when Conrad stopped to think about it.

"Yeh act'lly wan' to!" Worth crowed, in wicked delight. "Yeh wan' to an' yer all conflicted 'cause yer faggy therapist told yeh not ter fuck th' doctor."

Conrad glared. Conrad glared quite furiously, and Worth was content to just smirk at him until he fucking cracked, because Conrad always cracked sooner or later.

"You're not as irresistible as you think," Conrad finally muttered, in a small voice. "Maybe if I thought you actually meant something by it, but this is just another way for you to be an asshole. No thanks."

It was another instance of point-blank honesty from Conrad, and that time Conrad made no attempt to take back his words after they'd left his mouth. It meant at least part of Worth had to accept it, as truth in that moment if nothing else. And sure, maybe he didn't mean it in any largely significant way Conrad or his faggy therapist would approve of, but there was something to be said for gratification of the moment. And Worth's biting and fucking fantasies had expanded to such a point where he figured he could at least fake meaning something long enough to tumble Conrad against something and get on with it.

"Assumin' yeh tell yer faggy therapist abou' me," Worth said, still far too smugly. "Wot would convince yer therapist tha' fucking on top uv my desk would be a good idea?"

Conrad blinked at him, owlishly, clearly not wanting to be rash with his words once again. But when Worth pressed up against him yet again, grinding his hips down to prove that at least part of Conrad wasn't thinking about this beyond the moment, Conrad's mouth sagged open in reaction to the feeling. As soon as Worth stopped, he shot Worth a dirty look.

"Fine, fine!" Conrad yelped. "I have a condition."

"A condition fer me ter be able t' fuck yeh?" Worth asked, amused.

"Y-Yes," Conrad agreed, pushing past that difficulty. "You have to go to therapy. With the therapist I pick for you. And she has to say that you're... That you're r-ready for the commitment."

Worth had to choke back a laugh. Somehow this was completely unsurprising from Conrad. And if he thought about it, yeah, maybe it'd be good for a lark. Worth was sure he could suffer through a session, and he'd do it too, just to be able to see the look on Conrad's face when he'd been done with it and Conrad had to face his promise. Oh, that would make it all the better. Worth was already thinking about quite how nice a fuck it would be, after all that.

"Fine," Worth said, with relish.

Conrad blinked, once, and then spat out a "Fine," of his own, with some vehemence.

"Yeh jes' call me when yeh know th' time fer my appointment, an' Ah'll be there," Worth continued, like a taunt.

"You'd just better show up," Conrad shot back. "It would be just like you to stand me up by standing up a mental health professional."

Worth just shrugged, and eased back out of Conrad's personal space. Conrad dusted himself off again, still making that disbelieving, suspicious face, and then turned to leave Worth's clinic.

Fuck it all, Worth would make that date. He would make that date and rub in Conrad's face just how well he could do this therapy boyfriend crap just long enough for the pants to come off.

-.

"Ah, mister Worth?" the woman who opened the door greeted him with.

Worth stood on her stoop, a nonplussed expression on his face. He hadn't expected the therapist's office to be part of a private residence. He also hadn't expected this "Ellen Paige" to be a curvy middle-aged woman with enough sex appeal left to make him think twice but also with a penchant for frumpy sweaters he suspected Conrad must approve of. The current one was a sapphire blue, with a pattern of lighter sapphire triangles all throughout. She was also wearing a jean skirt with an embroidered hem and chunky sandals with little sapphire bobbles hanging off the straps.

Her dark brown hair was a bit past chin length, and swung evenly when she turned her head and invited him into the house. Gray eyes watched him, their depths possessing enough little flecks of blue to be brought out by her choice in clothing.

Worth imagined that Conrad would not be impressed if he tried to fuck his new therapist, just on principle.

"This way," she encouraged him, leading the way down the hall and opening a door onto a room that looked sort of like an office.

The office contained a squishy mustard yellow couch in one corner, and its walls were painted a fresh grass green color. The molding and the ceiling were both painted sunshine yellow, and there was a round area rug in the center of the floor that hand been made of scraps in all shades of green, yellow, and brown. There was a desk in the opposing corner, just a nondescript thing with a rolling leather office chair pushed up against it. Ellen Paige gestured for Worth to seat himself on the couch.

"Your appointment was made by one of my old patients," Ellen said, rolling the office chair away from the desk towards Worth and sitting down. "Conrad Achenleck. Would you like to tell me about Conrad?"

"Ah'm not quite pos'tive wot Ah'm doin' here," Worth told her. Fuck what Conrad had said to him. He was getting this shit explained before he mired himself too far.

Luce Worth could, on occasion, admit when he didn't know something. That occasion just had to be with a medical professional who was bound not to repeat anything he'd said outside that room.

"I believe Conrad was hoping for something a little like relationship counseling," Ellen told him, with a fond little smile. "He has given me the, ah, go-ahead, to discuss a few things with you if you ask."

Worth considered the merits of a dish on some of Conrad's past. He then decided he would largely pass. He received enough drama from Conrad himself; he didn't need to be harping on it during his free time, too.

"Considering we 'aven't got a 'relationship'?" Worth asked, a bit amused despite himself. "Ah'm not 'specially sure how well counselin' 's likely ter go."

"I think Conrad believes otherwise," she told him. "Has he told you of my credentials? He says you're a doctor."

Worth couldn't help feeling a little pride that Conrad would describe him as a doctor, all things considered. Or maybe Conrad was just too ashamed to admit that he was holding truck with a med school dropout.

"Nah, Connie 'asn't tole me jack shit." Worth said.

""I'm a licensed hypnotherapist," she told him.

"So wot?" Worth asked. "Yer gunna hypnotize me?"

"If you consent to go under," she said. "Then yes."

Worth didn't know what to make of that. He'd thought he was just going to give some shrink the run-around and then swagger back to his clinic and fuck Conrad over his desk. Or up against the wall. Or on the fucking floor, he wasn't picky. But he'd heard when he was in medical school that only about ten percent of people were susceptible to hypnotic suggestion, and that the ones who were sometimes had all sorts of transcendental experiences. Considering Worth's lengthy history with recreational drugs and a number not so recreational, anything that caused an altered state still sounded like good times to him. He might as well try it just the once, if he had a licensed professional at his disposal.

"Okay doc," Worth said. "Put me under."

Ellen tried a few aides, and a few different wordings, but finally settled upon a silver pocketwatch dangled from her hand and gently swung to and fro. She then began again with the phrasing Worth had been most susceptible to in her first forays.

"Listen to the sound of my voice," Ellen murmured. "When I clap my hands, you will awake, and you will not consciously remember anything we have spoken of. Sink into the trance. When you are under, you will do exactly as I say. Sink into the trance. When you are under, you will remember my suggestions. Sink into the trance."

Worth didn't remember anything past that. Just that Ellen's voice was strangely soothing, washing over him and through his mind and flushing everything out – everything out. It was like being weightless. And then, to his knowledge, he slept.

-.

Conrad maybe should have felt guilty for referring Worth to Ellen. Ellen was a therapist his mother had found for him, back when he'd been a troubled teen and she'd decided that maybe hypnotic suggestion could give her a more palatable son. Sadly, Conrad wasn't even susceptible to the suggestion, and Ellen had never once gotten him under. She'd gone on as a regular therapist for him, and Conrad had grown close to her before his mother cut off the treatment, realizing that no actual hypnotism was going on.

Conrad maybe should have felt guilty because he kept talking to her afterward, in letters and emails, and through long phone conversations late at night. He talked to her until she felt more like an aunt than a therapist, or maybe a proper mother to replace the one that dissatisfied him so greatly. He talked to her until they were close enough that maybe, just maybe, she'd do one little favor for his adult self.

Conrad told Ellen about Worth. He couldn't explain about the vampirism, but he told her how there was this man in his life, a doctor, who would yank him around but who he didn't think was any good for him. How Worth always just wanted what Worth wanted, how he was totally self-serving and out for himself. How he would use Conrad's needs against him and never satisfy them any more than he had to. And Ellen had listened, and had actually not told him that it was an abusive relationship and that Conrad should end it, which was good – he knew that he couldn't end it. At the very least he needed the blood, and was not prepared to go somewhere else. He was too comfortable, and he knew it, and he just couldn't do anything about it.

And Conrad told Ellen that he'd given Worth an ultimatum, that Worth would see a therapist, and prove that if Conrad did it, if Conrad had sex with him, it would not be just another manipulation. It would mean something, even if that something was just that Worth would keep having sex with Conrad, so Conrad could pretend there was more there than just biting and feeding and the new addition of fucking. Ellen agreed that therapy would be good for Worth, but carefully did not comment on Conrad's plan.

That was when Conrad told her what he really wanted.

Conrad wanted her to put Worth under. Conrad wanted her to give Worth some suggestions, plant some behaviors in Worth's blackened mind, so that Worth would have to fight himself in order to hurt Conrad. Ellen carefully explained that she didn't know if she could do that, as a medical professional and all, and what if Worth wasn't even susceptible to the suggestions?

Conrad told her to do as much as she could. Just one suggestion. Just the one most important thing. Make it so Worth liked him. Just a little bit. Make it so Worth would not use him that final time and then cut things off.

Perhaps it was the way he asked. Perhaps it was the way he phrased it – he certainly didn't want Worth to be in love with him or anything, especially not if it was all fake, but he hated the thought that Worth just found him an amusing diversion. That he was nothing more than a sharp mouth with a body, disposable.

Ellen asked him what else Conrad would change about Worth, if he could. And Conrad told her. Conrad told her every little thing. Worth would be clean. He would shower every day and shave and use deodorant and stop wearing that grimy coat with god only knew what matted in the fur. He would dress nicely. Ah, crisp black slacks and nice shirts, button-up or silk or maybe polos. He would practice medicine safely, even if he never went back to school – he made it sound like further learning so she wouldn't know Worth didn't even have a degree. Worth would be a little bit considerate. He wouldn't hurt Conrad's feelings just to do it, and he would tell jokes that were funny by virtue of being at Worth's expense, too. He would take Conrad nice places sometimes, go on dates and not just do things in Worth's clinic. And they would have sex on a bed, with lube, although he supposed he'd still like some spontaneity.

Ellen asked him about verbals cues, reminded him that such things were even possible. Conrad's first impulse was to ask that "stop" be made to really mean stop. And then, feeling so open and liberated, to ask that "pleasure me" spur Worth into giving him a blowjob – oh he was so certain Worth would pay ungodly amounts for a button like that of his own. He really wanted some sort of guilt cue, so that he could suggest his way into some normal human emotions out of Worth. But, well, maybe he should just keep it simple for the first visit.

Conrad thanked Ellen from the bottom of his heart, and scheduled Worth's first appointment.

-.

Worth headed back to his clinic feeling refreshed, and was somehow not surprised when he opened his door to see Conrad leaning against his desk, looking plenty nervous. The thing to do seemed to be closing the door and actually locking it, before swaggering across the floor to where Conrad was standing.

"'Ey Connie," he said, just evenly, not even any taunt there.

"Worth," Conrad returned.

"This mean Aye passed yer silly test?" Worth asked, amusement kicking in.

"I dunno," Conrad said. "Do you feel like calling me a fag?"

Worth stopped. He didn't even think about it, he just didn't say anything, and was silent for a full minute. Finally, "Aye guess not. Wot's this, more tests?"

"No, no," Conrad said, before laughing nervously. "I... I don't even know how to do this."

Worth moved forward until the front of his body pressed up against Conrad, placing both hands against the desk behind Conrad and trapping the vampire between his arms. Conrad made no attempt to get away, only laughed one more time before cutting himself off. If he hadn't done it, Worth would have. He sealed his mouth to Conrad's, pushing hard, delving inside as soon as Conrad's lips parted. Conrad's mouth was pliant beneath his own, far more than he would have expected. It was jarring for a second, and then he just went with it. He'd won, anyway, Conrad might as well make it good for him.

While kissing, Worth's hands released the desk and moved to Conrad's front, undoing his belt and then his fly, and reaching inside. It didn't matter if Conrad wasn't hard yet, Worth stroked with a sure hand mouth pressing even more insistently. He knew his grip was a bit over-firm from use on himself, but Conrad showed no signs of protest, and Worth brought him to hardness without too much difficulty. Finally Conrad broke away, leaning back so that he almost reached the desk.

"W-Wait," he breathed out, hands bracing against Worth's chest.

And for the moment, Worth waited, with the only result being that Conrad was actually shrugging out of his shirt, carefully placing it to the side on the desk. That accomplished, Conrad pushed Worth's coat off his shoulders insistently, so that Worth snorted a little at the fact that the gesture almost seemed take-charge. Conrad then turned his attention to Worth's buttons, going down the row with a sort of grim determination that someone else might have found charming. Worth found himself allowing it, at least, until his shirt was folded and placed to the side as well.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Conrad would be just as obsessive-compulsive in the face of sex as with the rest of his life.

"O-Okay," Conrad muttered then, like he was once again uncertain what to do.

"Relax, Connie," Worth told him magnanimously.

"If you're going to... "Conrad began, swallowing hard. "You know, you have... Lubricant somewhere, right? I mean..."

"Aye know, Connie," Worth said, still in that same tone. "Yer a lil' virgin an' Aye oughtn't break yeh. Bottom drawer."

Conrad blinked in disbelief, and then reached around the desk, pulling out the drawer in question. When he actually came up with a bottle of lube, the shocked expression on his face was priceless.

Worth wanted to comment that, what, did Conrad think he was the only one Worth had ever done this sort of thing with? But something stopped him. The words just didn't come out. So he shook his head and shrugged, taking the lube from Conrad.

After that it was just urging Conrad further out of his pants, and then urging him up onto the desk, legs spread wide enough for Worth's access. Worth had been hard before Conrad, without ever touching himself, and everything since then was just delicious torment. He slicked his fingers up real nice, pressed one long digit to Conrad's entrance so that Conrad could look down and see exactly what he was doing.

Worth didn't know why he took such care. He knew Conrad was a virgin, yeah, but he'd done other virgins before with less concern, and had no problems. Oh, there was a little pain, and sometimes just a bit of bleeding, but people mended. With Conrad he pressed the finger in an inch at a time, pausing again and again to make sure the vampire could take it. He then worked it in and out of Conrad's body, at a slow pace that he hoped would be torture, guessed was successful from the almost-pained concentrated look on Conrad's face, like he was trying to decide if he liked it or not.

"Worth," he finally whined, high-pitched and the slightest bit breathy. He followed it up by pressing his hips back against Worth's hand.

"Steady Connie," Worth said back, a smug grin on his face.

Conrad didn't even mind the grin. Worth added a second finger, twisted and spread them, reaching with that come-hither gesture that had Conrad gasping and squirming away from him almost, before pressing into the hand harder. Worth added the third finger, continued to make that favored motion, over and over, until Conrad was writhing and biting his lip and plainly keeping himself from saying Worth's name again or admitting that it was undoing him.

By the time Worth got himself out of his pants, stroked himself much more lightly than normal because he couldn't take that much sensation just then, it was so easy. Easier than he could have expected; Conrad never protested throughout all of it. He could thrust in hard and fast and Conrad would only gasp. He could repeat the motion, again and again, pressing Conrad right into the desk so that it shook slightly against the floor. And he could grab Conrad's dick, almost more for a handhold than because he wanted to bring Conrad pleasure or anything.

Worth didn't do anything cruel. He didn't goad Conrad into biting him, didn't bite Conrad himself. He was ruthless with his thrusts but Conrad only seemed to enjoy that, and it pleased Worth just fine. And when he actually came before Conrad, his hand stilling on Conrad's dick and his hips jittering slightly as he emptied himself, Conrad didn't say a thing. He even returned to stroking when he had the presence of mind to do it, feeling elated and perfect with his orgasm and it didn't matter that he was fucking Confag.

He did realize then that Conrad had wrapped his arms around Worth's neck, had been holding on quite tightly until the very end, when he came across both of their stomachs with a smothered little cry. Conrad didn't let go afterward, either. He just sat there, come-spattered and looking almost triumphant, as if daring Worth to call him a name and tell him to let go.

And Worth didn't even really want to do it. He didn't think about it. It just didn't happen, and for some reason that didn't feel strange. Conrad did release him once the come had cooled, but Worth suspected it was just because he was realizing he was sticky and he wanted to clean himself off.

"Thanks Worth," Conrad said, kissing Worth once quickly on the mouth.

That was still positively startling, and Worth stumbled back just enough for Conrad to slip away from him, grab up all of his clothes, and pop into Worth's tiny bathroom.

Worth took that as the cue for him to get all of his clothes back on, which he managed to do and still Conrad was in the bathroom. So Worth seated himself behind his desk, broke out his deck of index cards, and started shuffling. Still nothing. No real thoughts on the matter. It had been /good,/ and he knew without thinking about it that he'd do it again. And he knew he'd still like it better if Conrad bit him during, on the neck or on his dick, he wasn't too filthy. And maybe next time he'd insist on it. But otherwise there was nothing, just a feeling that he suspected was happiness, or maybe contentment.

Luce Worth was not used to being genuinely happy or content, and yet he couldn't fight it. It made him sort of hope for a patient, so he could be doing something productive, and left him with no desire for an alcoholic chaser to the sex.

Conrad came out of the bathroom then, and he managed to look both sheepish and elated. He gave Worth an awkward little wave, and continued right out the door. He didn't even say anything else, no painful attempt at small talk or insistence that this would never happen again.

Worth didn't mind. He'd have a patient sooner or later. It was rather like nothing had even changed.

-.

Conrad insisted that Worth go back to Ellen Paige for another session. Usually Worth could coax or bully or blackmail Conrad away from any ideas that he didn't like, but Conrad remained firm and Worth somehow had a hard time turning him down. For one thing, he had genuinely liked Ellen. They'd only talked a small amount, before and after he was hypnotized, but he couldn't help the feeling and didn't want to summon the energy to be belligerent just for belligerence's sake.

So Worth went again.

Being hypnotized was soothing. It was better than any sleep Worth could remember getting in recent history, even when he'd been young. Ellen didn't demand anything of him. And after the session, she asked him to set up another session, to see her on a regular basis. He considered asking about payment, but then decided fuck it. If Conrad was footing his therapy bills, it was some fucked up sort of symmetry.

After the first three sessions, Conrad showed up at Worth's clinic and asked him to dinner. Worth had been unable to say no. Or rather, he'd opened his mouth and the first thing that tumbled out was agreement. He'd been unable to even think about it. And as soon as he did, there was one pang of regret, and then he realized he didn't care. Whatever. He'd have dinner with Conrad.

The fancy restaurant was not to Worth's taste, and he wasn't dressed up nearly enough – not that he cared – but he sat. And he ate. And he didn't worry for a second that Conrad was simply sitting across the table sipping red wine. He didn't even find it weird that Conrad reached across the table and swiped up some of the bloodied juices from Worth's rather rare steak before popping his finger into his mouth. Somehow it almost seemed... Normal. When had Worth ever done anything normal? It was absurd. But he didn't care. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care.

And afterward, Conrad brought Worth back to his condo.

"Yeh sure yeh want ter be doin' this?" Worth asked as he passed the threshold, in a joking tone of voice.

"Shut up Worth," Conrad said, but it almost sounded fond.

Conrad tugged Worth all the way back to his bedroom, even teasingly pushed Worth down on the bed. Worth found himself almost thinking it was cute. Almost. Conrad was still about as scary as a kitten, but Worth's ass hit the mattress with a thump, and then Conrad climbed into his lap. Conrad's arms went around his neck and then Conrad's mouth was on him, pressing almost as insistently as Worth had the first time.

So Worth pressed back. He pressed back hard. And after he realized that he was hard other places, he dragged Conrad around and pressed him into the mattress. Conrad pulled lube out of the bedside table and it was just /so easy./ He prepped Conrad up quicker and Conrad didn't even complain, and before plunging on Worth took a few long moments to stroke Conrad, quickly, faster and faster with his too-slick hand.

"Bite me," he urged Conrad, leaning in close so Conrad would have access. He kept stroking, slippery and perfect. "Go on."

"Worth," Conrad laughed, like he'd said something funny.

Worth squeezed harder, painful-tight, and Conrad gave a little gasp. "Ah'm not jokin'. Bite me. Jes' do it."

Conrad started to laugh again before giving pause, and then offering Worth a contemplative little look. "You think it's appropriate to be asking that?" he said, like it was still a joke.

Worth's only reply was the motion of his hand, another hard squeeze and then two strokes, and then squeeze again. He would get what he wanted this time.

And Conrad sunk his fang into Worth's neck with a sort of delicacy, only taking a very small drink before pausing, and then another. Worth wondered when Conrad had found any self control; every other time Conrad drank until Worth was almost ready to pass out, before realizing he needed to stop.

Worth didn't question it out loud. Instead he pushed in, hips snapping forward so quick that he caused himself to moan, lower and needier than he could remember hearing from himself. As he thrusted, rhythm careful after that, Worth pacing himself, Conrad continued to take small drinks from the vein in his neck. Conrad actually focused more on the wound than on the feeding, tearing carefully, making it hurt. Worth came first, again, but this time it was because of the added pain.

It was better sex than he'd had in so, so long, and it had actually been on a /bed/ with lots of lube and everything. He didn't know why it seemed filthier and more delicious than any back-alley sex that had preceded it in recent years. Or, no, he did. It was the biting; it had to be the biting oh fuck it was exactly like his fantasy.

Well, his fantasy typically included grungier locales, but he would forgive that part.

"Do you want to spend the night?" Conrad asked, after Worth had brought him off and just hovered there for minutes.

But that Worth couldn't do. He tried to tell Conrad that he was a fag and Worth would not be doing anything that homosexual, but the words wouldn't come. So Worth just pulled out and stood up and put his pants back on, his thoughts running around in circles. He should have been figuring out why it was so hard to just cut this off and leave. But... It just wasn't happening. He could do it. He could leave. It was just a struggle.

"Gotta git back ter th' clinic," Worth muttered gruffly, the least personal thing he could spit out.

"Of course," Conrad said, and he didn't even sound hurt. At all. Even though Worth was just leaving.

"Come by fer yer blood whenever, Connie," Worth added. And he'd been trying for something cutting, but some hidden part of his mind was smoothing everything over.

Worth took one last look back before he strode out. And Conrad was just sitting on the bed, naked, with a stunned little smile on his face.

-.

Worth's life was regular after that. Once a week, he went to see Ellen Paige. Almost every visit, Ellen put him under. He slept the best sleep of his life for an hour, and then they chatted for about five minutes, and then he left. Once or twice a week, Conrad would show up at the clinic for feeding. It always came out of Worth. And somewhere along the way Conrad learned how to make it painfully erotic even when they weren't fucking. He learned how to worry the wounds, just when to tear and when to stop sucking, because even the suction hurt but taking it away hurt worse. Worth's neck was a chain of bruises and punctures that never healed because he and Conrad kept them fresh.

Worth insisted that Conrad bite him, even if Conrad didn't drink, every time they fucked. The location varied. Often it was his clinic, but never the same surface twice in a row. The desk was a favorite, and the walls were good too. He got Conrad to fuck him in the bathroom once, even though the grime in there usually made Conrad cringe. And Worth didn't even stop Conrad when he came by the next evening with a bag full of cleaning supplies and turned Worth's bathroom spotless. The examination table was always a fun romp, and the mattress in the back room saw some use.

Conrad didn't take Worth back to his condo often. But Worth had fucked Conrad on his bed, on his couch, against /his/ desk, and even on the fluffy rug in Conrad's living room. Worth had thought he would grow bored if he slept with the same person for too long. The biting convinced him otherwise. He ended up with colorful wounds places other than his neck, anywhere the veins were close to the surface. His groin in particular, although Conrad only ever bit into the vein, he never placed his mouth on Worth's dick.

Worth didn't know how he'd failed to lay into Conrad for that, but it never happened.

Worth didn't keep track of the weeks exactly. They blurred together for him. But it must have been six months in, when Conrad walked into his clinic that day with every sort of confidence. Even though the fucking was regular, Conrad always still had a sort of nervousness about him. It was amusing, in a way, to see him looking so sure of himself. He walked over and bumped Worth up against the wall, pressing his mouth to Worth's for a kiss. Worth was enough used to the affection that he returned the kiss on impulse.

Conrad broke away, took a deep breath he didn't need, and addressed Worth. "Pleasure me."

Worth didn't think. The next thing he knew he was on his knees undoing Conrad's belt. Pulling it free. Opening up Conrad's fly. Still he didn't think. In his ears he could hear a soft melody, the sound suspiciously like that of Ellen Paige's voice. He pulled Conrad's dick out of his pants, not a thought for the fact that Conrad was only almost half-hard. Worth stroked once. Still he didn't think.

When Worth closed his mouth over the head of Conrad's cock, some thoughts came back. Some, but not enough. They were all focused on the action, on taking in more, on sucking hard so that Conrad gasped from above him. On sliding his tongue along the underside, on the concerted bob forward and back. His tongue swiped over the head as he retreated, before his mouth again descended, hearing Conrad's small sounds and trying to act based on them, but mostly just going on some weird buried instincts that were leading him. Blowjobs were not something Worth was especially proficient in, since he'd only ever before done it to get something from someone. It should have been an entirely new experience.

And it was. Except he couldn't think about it. The thoughts kept skittering aside, like insects in the dark when a light was shone upon them. And he kept going, carefully coaxing until he could feel Conrad's hand atop his head, scrabbling, trying to grab enough hair to tug at, and the next moment Conrad was coming down his throat. He didn't have enough thoughts to pull back, or enough thoughts to spit the new contents of his mouth out on the floor. Before he could even process, his throat had worked convulsively, swallowing several times until Conrad was spent. Only then did Conrad's cock slide gently free from the embrace of his mouth.

Worth looked up at Conrad then, and there was a brief stutter in his head, some small voice telling him that this was wrong and strange and never should have happened. But the soft melody rolled over it, and again Worth just felt good. His mouth still tasted a little bit off, but that would fade. No harm done. He moved back to his feet, looked Conrad in the face where the vampire had a little smile playing about his lips, like he wasn't sure if he should be happy or not.

But when Conrad saw Worth, really lit eyes upon his face, the happy smile melted into a sort of dazed, shocked look.

"Th-That really happened, didn't it?" Conrad asked.

There was another stutter, as that sectioned-off part of Worth's brain tried to say something snarky, deny that he had done anything quite so nice for Conrad. But it never managed to find voice, and in the end his only response was a quiet, "Yeah."

"Oh god." Conrad choked out, in a small voice. "I... I have to go, okay Worth? I'm, uh, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry."

Worth didn't have anything to say to that. Conrad started to lean forward, like he would kiss Worth, but then he stopped and turned away. He quickly did his fly back up, re-buckled his belt, and then turned on his heel and left. Worth watched him go. And then Worth shrugged, turned himself, and just sat down at his desk. He'd been drinking so much less lately, but maybe he'd pour himself a shot of vodka. Rinse the taste out of his mouth. Why did he feel so good?

-.

Conrad was quite skilled at lying to himself. When he had been younger, it was a coping mechanism to help him deal with his mother and all of the various therapies she found for him. Over the past six months, it was perhaps what had let him convince himself that Worth was his boyfriend, and that it was just normal for them to fuck every time they saw each other and only go on a few real dates. Usually if they went somewhere other than Worth's office, it was Conrad's condo. He hardly ever talked to Worth any more. Their bodies did the talking.

And Conrad had been able to tell himself that it was okay. It felt good, right? Worth was obviously enjoying himself too, or he wouldn't come so much and curse the way he did when he was close and make those delicious moans. It was okay; everyone was having a good time.

And maybe Conrad insisted that Worth keep seeing Ellen, but Worth never complained. Worth never even talked about it. Conrad suspected that Worth actually liked the visits. And maybe that was because Conrad talked to Ellen frequently, and Ellen told him how she was reinforcing the suggestions, and how Worth should actually respond subconsciously to "stop" or "pleasure me."

So Conrad had tried it.

He hadn't expected Worth to /do/ it. Somehow he'd still thought that Worth would laugh at him, and ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean, and well after that he imagined them fucking, but fucking was normal. Instead, Worth had just dropped to his knees and grabbed him. And oh god, the blowjob. Conrad hadn't been expecting, more than any of it, for Worth to actually be /good/ at it. Or to really /try/ at it. And oh god he'd come so hard and Worth had /swallowed/ every last bit.

It was easily one of the hottest things Conrad had ever experienced.

Except then Worth stood up and looked at him like nothing was wrong, and it drove home with Conrad that /everything/ was wrong. Maybe this was great for him, but this Worth was not the Worth he had met months and months ago. That Worth had never been so kind to him, and that Worth never would have gone out to dinner with him or come back to his condo. That Worth liked to call him names and make fun of his clothes.

But... So what if this wasn't that Worth? That Worth had been an asshole. That Worth deserved to be written over by a Worth who thought about other people's feelings sometimes and fucked Conrad so well it might as well be making love and who would go down on Conrad in a heartbeat, without even asking what he would receive in response.

Still. Still. Maybe Conrad should give Worth a bit of a break. Maybe he'd ask Ellen to go easy on the man, not to mess with his head any more for a while. It would be okay. Conrad would make sure it was all okay.

-.

For the first two weeks, Worth didn't realize Conrad was gone. He kept going to see Ellen, and at first nothing seemed amiss. He only realized something was wrong when he remembered that Conrad needed to feed, and if Conrad wasn't biting him Conrad wasn't eating. He waited another week. Saw Ellen again. Still no Conrad. Worth wasn't used to worrying about anyone, and it didn't occur to him that it might be worry he was experiencing. But after the fourth week he decided that something must be wrong, and that he had to do something about it.

Worth went to Conrad's condo. He went at evening, when Conrad would have to be home because the sun had been out up until just then, so he would have been completely unable to leave. He knocked. He waited. He totally didn't feel relief when Conrad opened the door.

"Connie," he said, almost surprised at how pleasant he sounded. "Yer not eatin', are yeh?"

Conrad did look a bit wan, even a bit gaunt, but he forced a smile when Worth asked. "I'm not too hungry yet. I'll be okay. Were you... Were you worried about me?"

Worth wanted to say fuck no, he didn't worry about fags. He could still think things like that, had been thinking them more and more the past two weeks. Conrad was a huge fucking fag for being so fucking faithful to him, and Worth didn't think about the fact that no one else he'd fucked in years had been faithful. One night stands did not have faith, and things like fucking Mont... Well he expected Mont to have girlfriends; Worth didn't want to be Lamont's fucking girlfriend, or the fag equivalent. Conrad was like one half of a fucking married couple.

Worth couldn't think about what that would make him.

And he couldn't do it. He couldn't tell Conrad that of course he wasn't, that was preposterous. He opened his mouth, and the only thing that tumbled out was, "Yeah."

For a moment the shock flashed across Conrad's face, and then he just smiled, a tiny private little grin. "Come on in, Wor- Luce."

It would not have occurred to Worth to think about the fact that Conrad still called him by his last name, even after months. It wasn't something he cared about; he never dated, not since high school, so no one had called him by his first name just because they were having sex with him. But just then, it didn't occur to him to think anything of the change. If Conrad wanted to call him Luce, that was his business. Hell, he might even approve of Conrad gasping out "Luce" when they were fucking.

Worth came inside, and Conrad slowly led him back to the bedroom. If Worth had been thinking about such things, he would have realized that the mood was different than any other time he'd been in Conrad's condo. Every other time had been fraught with sexual tension, and had quickly turned to clothes shedding and enthusiastic fucking. But this time when Conrad pressed Worth down on his bed, Conrad did it gently, and followed it by dropping to his knees in between Worth's legs.

It didn't occur to Worth, until Conrad was unfastening his pants and pulling out his dick, what Conrad was going to do. Even then he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, as if his vocal cords had been paralyzed more firmly than any other time.

Conrad stroked him, twice, slowly, keeping with the almost romantic mood in the air. And then Conrad slid his lips around Worth's dick, lowering his head until he'd taken Worth in, all of him. It occurred to Worth dimly that if a vampire didn't have to breathe, he probably didn't have to have a gag reflex either. Other than that, Worth's head was silent, all of his thoughts dropping out of the air like flies. And as Conrad pulled back, he scraped his fang along Worth's dick, sparking pain all the way up Worth's spine and lodging into his brain as pure pleasure. It was fucking perfect. Conrad continued, alternating sucking with the scrape of his teeth, with firm bites to the head when he withdrew that far.

As Worth watched him, Conrad's eyes were shut, as if he was just intent on what he was doing. Worth's head tilted back, Worth unable to watch any more. His eyes rolled up towards the ceiling and he continued to release low, needy moans, to urge Conrad on with his wordless voice. Conrad responded perfectly. It was the exact blend of pain and pleasure that Worth needed. When he was close he tilted his head back further, and as if Conrad knew he was doing it, he blinked his eyes open, looking up at Worth with such exquisite care in his eyes.

Worth came right then. He would never know if it had been that look on Conrad's face, or simply the fact that he'd been brought so close to the edge and then over. Whatever the case, he came so hard that he saw white, his vision sparking and betraying him and he could focus on nothing except his orgasm.

Conrad drew back when Worth was very much done, and Worth didn't even notice that Conrad had swallowed. Conrad followed it by crawling up into Worth's lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around Worth's neck. He kissed Worth on the mouth, with tongue, so that Worth could taste himself. He kissed back anyway, fuck it, it seemed like the thing to do and he just couldn't stop. They both continued, like neither wanted to break away.

Conrad finally pulled back, and he spoke first. "Do you want to spend the night?"

That time, even Worth's routine defense didn't kick up. He was unable to do anything save for agree, and they both slept in Conrad's bed, pressed together because it really wasn't quite large enough for two.

-.

It was easy after that, and again Worth lost track of the days and months. Life became a soothing routine, lulling him into complacency with the patterns that had been established. Conrad called him "Luce" whenever they spoke, and a few times Worth managed to be in the same place as Conrad when Hanna came in, and when Lamont came in. Lamont had been his one friend growing up, the person who stuck with him through the years and years and who Worth could rely upon as a constant. Hanna had been the anomaly, the person willing to believe that Worth was really worthwhile, who had to go and rely on Worth so they couldn't be rid of each other.

Both Lamont and Hanna knew what to expect from Worth. They were used to his abrasiveness and belligerence, and somehow those caustic qualities no longer had an effect on them. When it was just Hanna or just Lamont, Worth was as much of a dick as always. But those scarce times when Conrad happened to be there as well, his personality fragmented. He couldn't be rude to Conrad, even then. He could make the jokes, but they never had quite the usual ring of viciousness. When he called Conrad "princess," it actually sounded like a pet name and not like the derision it had come to signify.

Worth had regarded them over Conrad's head, had tried to let out through his eyes what it meant, at the very least so they wouldn't hound him about it. The problem was, he didn't know what it was. He didn't know what to tell them. As much as he couldn't be completely cruel to Conrad, he could not explain. There was the same blockage in his brain, so that he diverted both Hanna's fumbling and Lamont's pointed remarks. And even though it felt as if he was doing something massively wrong, he also couldn't care about it. Fuck Lamont and fuck Hanna. This meant contentment and orgasms, and wasn't the wisdom that one shouldn't mess with a good thing?

After a couple months, both Hanna and Lamont stopped reacting, although something in the back of Worth's head knew that they were not bought in.

Worth slept over with Conrad more often. He packed clothes, took showers with Conrad, didn't care any more about his penchant for being unclean. It wasn't a phobia of cleanliness, anyway. It was really just supreme laziness, and if he had Conrad to shower with, every bathtime turned into sex, and who could argue with that? A quickie in the shower when Conrad rolled out of bed at a quarter past nine meant Worth was in a good mood when he strolled into his clinic at a few minutes until ten.

Even Worth's patients noticed some subtle change, for all that he was still his usual dick self to them. While his bedside manner did not improve, his actual handling of medical matters was more precise. It wasn't on purpose. He just reflexively took care of his patients better, hurt them a bit less in collateral than he had before. He did notice that he seemed to have more comers, more sad sons of bitches with no insurance and no one else to turn to. He did them all up right. They all still paid him with whatever they had, and if he was turning more of a profit he'd welcome the extra money. He'd take Conrad out to dinner and watch Conrad drink his wine, badger him into taking a bite or two of Worth's meal, a small enough amount that it wouldn't make him sick.

And before Worth knew it, a year had passed.

When Conrad came to him, cringingly, with plans for an anniversary, Worth didn't even blink. It was so routine for them by then. He told Conrad flat out that whatever Conrad felt like was fine. What Conrad asked for was dinner at home, where every dish was laced with blood that he'd spirited out of Worth's cooler in the clinic, and where Conrad's wine was half A negative and Worth could taste it on his tongue afterward but he didn't care.

That night, they made love in Conrad's bed. Worth actually used the phrase, in his head – "made love." And he didn't cringe. He didn't think twice. He leaned over Conrad, missionary position, and rocked his hips into the vampire over, and over, and over, relentlessly – lovingly even, if one would only go so far – until they both came with shuddery little gasps. Worth didn't make Conrad bite him. Not once. They actually had sex like they were just two normal people, in a committed relationship, like equals.

Worth never thought about it. But he had a lurking suspicion that Conrad stayed up all night.

-.

For Worth, the second year of his relationship with Conrad was peaceful. He was able to think of it as a relationship, was able to officially tell Hanna, tell Lamont, to accept it or fuck the hell off. He was even able to think sometimes, at three o'clock in the morning when he should be sleeping but was often still in his clinic, that maybe he should just offer to move in with Conrad. They could start by buying themselves a larger bed, so they wouldn't have to tangle together in a sprawl of limbs whenever they fell asleep in Conrad's bedroom. And past that, would it really be any different?

But some presence in the back of Worth's mind, some lurking existence that he could no longer place a finger on, could no longer even name, kept him from doing it. On some level he still felt that he needed his own space. It didn't matter that his rathole apartment was exactly that, just a filthy little hole in the wall with a mattress right on the floor, however king-sized. It was full of the detritus of Worth's life, the things that he kept because on some level he couldn't throw them away, although he never looked through any of it and didn't even really know what was in those piles any more. It was like his best-kept secret, the one thing he felt no compulsion to share with Conrad.

In his visits with Ellen, Worth began talking to her more. He would only go under for half the time, still rising from the trance feeling well-rested and brimming with a sort of productive energy, and then he would just talk. It was so easy, like he never could have imagined. He detailed all the parameters of his relationship, the few activities that he and Conrad could share together pleasantly. It did not seem odd that their interests overlapped in such small amounts. Ellen suggested that they try finding a TV series they could watch together, something they could talk about afterward so they could bond on an intellectual level.

Worth did it. He and Conrad would sit on the couch in Conrad's condo, not fucking, not even touching in any sexual manner, and watch old episodes of ER. Worth liked the doctoring aspect, while Conrad liked when there was blood, for all that he would vehemently deny it. Ellen was right. Afterward they could sit at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other and with their legs jumbled together across the central cushion, Conrad's cold fingers wrapped around Worth's feet with his thumbs pressed up against the soles. And they would just talk about medical procedures, and the possibility of death, and what life really meant, anyway.

Worth never realized that they were actually having psychological discussions, existential discussions, discussions of weighty issues that he had never before in his life tried to regard seriously. Worth always masked anything that felt like weakness, showed the world his best game face and then insulted it for looking. It was disconcerting to those last recesses of his mind, to talk freely. But those parts were always overruled, as soon as Conrad brought up medical tubing and joked about what he could do with it.

Worth still had the presence of mind, even then, to joke back that maybe Conrad should just try it some time.

Worth didn't expect Conrad to listen to him. He didn't expect Conrad to unwind a thick coil of firm yellow rubber tubing after they finished watching the next episode the evening after. Conrad stretched it between his hands, pulling gently so that the elasticity of the material held it briefly taut, before releasing so that it spun back into gentle circular whorls of tube. Worth tried to take it from him, just needing to see if it was real. Conrad wouldn't let him.

"This was your idea," Conrad told him, voice pitched low but something almost mean about it. "Isn't it only fair that I get to do it? Isn't that what you want?"

Worth couldn't say no, because it was, and even if it wasn't he would likely fake it just because Conrad seemed so determined to go through with this.

Conrad climbed on top of him on the couch, just using the weight of his body to restrain Worth slightly and not trying any harder than that. Worth felt no menace from Conrad, not then, not ever, not even with Conrad's latest shift in tone. He even bared his neck when Conrad looped the tubing around it, pulling the material snug, looking right down into Worth's eyes as he did it.

"Take a deep breath," Conrad murmured, soothing then, but still with that edge. "I think you might need it."

And Worth gasped then, breathing in not because Conrad had advised it but because some part of him was still shocked at this entire occurrence.

And Conrad pulled the cording tighter, and tighter yet, until Worth could feel it biting into the flesh of his neck, could feel it compressing his throat and beginning to obstruct his airway. He tried to breathe in, just to see if he could, and found that it was difficult – so difficult. Conrad was actually squeezing tightly enough to make Worth light-headed.

Even with his thoughts going fuzzy from lack of air, Worth could feel Conrad's erection pressing against his stomach where Conrad was straddling him, and a moment later he could feel the hand not holding the cording snug fumbling between them, grasping at their zippers and getting both of their cocks free. Conrad's hand on the end of the cord slacked for a moment, letting Worth grab one much-needed gasp of air. But then the cording went snug again, as Conrad gripped himself and Worth together, the hand on their dicks as sure as the one braced against the side of Worth's neck.

Conrad's hand moved swiftly, not fumbling, even though he was working the both of them at the same time, even though it meant that Worth felt Conrad's fingers caressing him, felt Conrad's cock sliding needfully against his own length, the friction excellent. The cording biting into his neck did not lessen a thing. If anything the sensations were stronger, all of Worth's focus narrowed to his shallow gasps for oxygen and the shooting jolts of pleasure sparking from his dick and out, along all of his nerves like wildfire.

Worth didn't question that Conrad knew this would be good for him, that Conrad stared down into his face the entire time, like he was just taunting Worth to like it. And like it Worth did. Oh, like was far too feeble a word for it. The entire experience was mind-blowing, literally, in that when Worth finally blew his load it felt like it had been explosive. He would have been gasping afterward, except Conrad's tight grasp on his throat had not yet relaxed. It didn't relax, either, until Conrad had brought himself off as well and his hand slackened as if against his will.

As much as Worth had liked it, his body gasped in sharply then, each breath searing against his chest until his system again grew used to inhaling a normal volume. Even though Conrad had let go, he had not slid forward as he would at other times, had not allowed himself to nestle against Worth's chest and become comfortable. He remained sitting up, still watching Worth, as if he had been expecting some outcome other than the one he was observing and was trying to calculate how this other end result had come about.

"Yeh shouldn' make faces, Connie," Worth rasped quietly, voice rougher than normal from the unkind treatment. "Yer face's gunna freeze like tha'."

Conrad blinked twice, evidence of surprise, and then looked away for several long moments.

"That isn't real," he finally said. "And you know it."

Somehow, Worth thought Conrad was talking about something entirely different from what Worth had been proposing.

-.

Prior to the relationship, Worth had dabbled in a lot of kink. He grew bored easily, and if he was going to sleep with someone more than once – or even the first time – things had to be kept interesting. He never thought about why sex with Conrad always still registered as fulfilling. For a while it had been the biting, all the sectioned parts of his brain could agree on that. Biting, as sophisticated as Conrad made it, was not a kink Worth would grow bored of easily. And yet somehow it had phased out of their routine, until their sex life looked almost normal.

And then Conrad decided to spice it up.

Sometimes Conrad took cues from Worth. With the asphyxiation, at least Worth had joked that he would enjoy such things, had given Conrad that first little clue. It was followed by Conrad approaching him wearing only clean white latex gloves, giving Worth a positively filthy look and bidding him sit down. From there Conrad proceeded to give Worth the most clinical handjob he had ever received, refusing to touch him with any part of himself save for those gloved hands. Refusing to even look at Worth save to shoot him a poisoned look, as if to say Conrad was very busy there, Worth had better just fucking sit still and enjoy it.

And it was hot. Worth did not even attempt to explain that one, because it was slightly outside his usual realms of perversion. Conrad had inflicted no pain upon him, but the manner itself had kept him firmly in his seat until Conrad was done with him. Conrad didn't let Worth touch him afterward. Conrad went into the bathroom and Worth was certain he was jerking off, even though Worth couldn't hear a thing.

After that they had a few nights of more routine sex, nothing more obscene that lube coming between them. They were normal for a while, almost two whole weeks. And then Conrad had insisted upon climbing on top of Worth, arching up on his knees and prepping himself, quickly, so that Worth could watch but without inviting Worth to help him or even touch him at all. When he was done he wrapped his slick hand around Worth's dick, flashed Worth a throwaway smile, stroked twice and then impaled himself neatly. He kept control of the rhythm, riding Worth in a manner that was technically gentle, on the slower side, and yet which left Worth no illusions of who had been in charge that night.

Some part of Worth was simply horrified, there in the back of his mind where his demons lurked. That part objected to giving up his handle on things, in slipping so completely that Conrad could take the reins right out of his hand, could just give him a smile and convince Worth that Worth trusted Conrad. Worth was not used to letting go. Worth was not used to being dominated, even once in a while, even when the rest of the time Conrad deferred to him and smiled at him and they spoke like equals.

The next time Conrad climbed on top of Worth and tried to take him for a ride, it was accompanied by cold hands wrapped snug around Worth's neck. Worth could not object. Not because his air was being restricted and it would be hard to form words, but because the engine fueling his desires had latched so firmly upon asphyxiation, liking the feeling of light-headed-ness that resulted so much that it would shut down all his questions. Being without oxygen hurt, in its own way. The burn of his lungs struggling, and the fact that Conrad kept going even as he gasped, hips still descending against him in a steady, relentless rhythm.

Worth never lost an erection during it. Whatever about blood flow, he was still painfully hard until the subtle clenching of Conrad's body finally milked his orgasm out of him. He never complained; all complaints were buried under the calming waves of orgasmic pleasure.

It was Worth himself who handed Conrad the scalpel, who encouraged Conrad to use it when they were doing nothing more than that simple bonding activity that had been recommended to him. There was nothing left to be surprised, that Conrad would do it if he said, cut him if he said. He imagined there was still a give-and-take somewhere, that all of this balanced out perversely on a cosmic scale. He couldn't care long enough to figure it out himself.

-.

Conrad was losing his mind. He kept a diary, although Worth still hadn't found it, didn't even seem to be looking, and he kept track of exactly how many days their farce of a relationship had gone on for. If he hadn't somehow skipped some braincells and messed something up, it had been just over a year and eight months. A year and eight months of sleeping with Worth. He would still say "Luce" to Worth's face like they were a couple but he couldn't believe it himself any more and every time Worth agreed to it he almost cringed.

It was so wrong, he felt like crying.

It had been nice at first, Conrad knew it had been nice. He had allowed himself to be seduced by the crisp image of Luce Worth treating him like something other than dirt. Luce Worth cleaned up a little, even going out to dinner with him. Fucking him – yes, fucking, he would not be so naïve as to say "making love" – something furious, so that he orgasmed like he was breaking apart. It was addictive, he supposed he could admit it. He was addicted to the blend of "perfect boyfriend" and "Luce Worth," the thing that had become a constant in his life and the thing that he had sort of always wanted.

Conrad would even admit to liking the surge of power, when he found that Ellen's suggestions really all worked – even the line that would make Worth genuinely want to suck his cock. Like a fag. Like everything Worth had always professed to hate. It was heady and even though he'd felt miserable over thinking he'd forced it, forced all of it, the seduction had lured him into trying again, into thinking he could make it up to Worth just by going down on him in exchange.

'

Conrad even tried to give them the best anniversary he could think of, and when Worth had returned every gesture with nothing but the same, with sex that was practically sweet so that it almost made Conrad sick, he had to admit something was wrong. But it was so hard to stop. He tried to make Worth angry. He tried everything that had always worked in the past, left his weaknesses bare and open and just ripe for exploitation. And nothing. Instead they ended up talking, like they were baring their souls, and Conrad felt like the world's most enormous creep.

Conrad felt like he was going insane. Suffering from a psychotic break. He couldn't talk to Ellen about it. He stopped calling her. He tried physically hurting Worth, for fuck's sake, but whatever else had happened to Worth's brain, one thing remained true. He was a fucking masochist to the core. Conrad could wrap his hands around Worth's neck and Worth would only thrust up harder. It was sort of miraculous, in a way, but it made Conrad feel dirty. He'd washed his hands afterward over and over, and still he didn't feel better, standing in the bathroom for a solid half hour with the water running steaming hot.

And so Conrad tried to distance himself from Worth. He still needed the blood, but he was stronger, could go a couple weeks at a time before he really needed to feed. And he still slept with Worth, but he kept it vanilla, no longer having it in him to try and do anything kinky, anything that would provoke a reaction. He didn't know what had possessed him to do those things in the first place. Now that he was looking back on it, his own behavior made his skin crawl.

He tried not to think of how it could have been different, how the old Worth would have laughed at his very attempt, probably flipped him over neatly and taunted him for being a fag and being into kink and presuming that Conrad could ever be in charge of a scene. And then Worth would command him to do it, in that knowing drawl that said he was well aware Conrad would do exactly as he said, bare his neck and tell Conrad to make sure the cord was tight, was he too much of a priss to get his hands dirty? Conrad's body still got it up when he tried to sleep with Worth, but it was just going through the motions.

His brief fantasy about the old Worth, about sex with the old Worth where it would be dirty and filthy and full of Worth berating him with dripping condescension, got him far harder than any real interaction had in months.

There had to be an end somewhere. If he just let Worth alone, maybe his influence would drain away. Worth would turn back into his nasty, foul excuse for a person and Conrad's guilt could leech away in a similar fashion. Oh, deep down he knew it was foolish and that things would not work that way. But it got him through the months, kept him from hating himself and the situation he'd contrived enough to never properly act.

-.

If the incidences of sex slowed down, Worth hardly noticed. So maybe Conrad was feeding off of him less; Conrad never seemed as if anything was wrong, so Worth largely assumed that this was simply the amount of blood a vampire needed after being steadily fed for so long. And at last that day rolled around, the one that Worth's impulses screamed meant something. His two year anniversary with Conrad.

Conrad had planned everything the year before, so this time Worth planned it out. The restaurant, the flowers, the tux, everything. All down to the black bowtie, tied a bit too snug because that kept it on straight and hey, Worth liked a little asphyxiation anyway. Everything was to his specifications. Until he went to meet Conrad. He never even considered factoring Toni into the equation. Not even in those recesses of his mind, where something akin to normalcy lurked. Even there, Worth hadn't fathomed that Conrad would be the one to stray. Straying was always his job. In a way, he felt upstaged. More than that, he felt angry. But overlaying it, as he heard the melodic voice of a woman singing softly, was simple sorrow that such a thing had happened.

-.

Conrad turned away from the door once Worth had disappeared from his view, shutting it and then facing Toni in the entrance way to his condo. She was only wearing her underthings, standing as if she was unashamed, as if they had both done nothing wrong. Had they? Hadn't Conrad's past therapists always told him that unhealthy relationships were only asking to be ended, and that it took a strong person to know when that was the case and to act upon it?

But if this was an unhealthy relationship, it was all Conrad's fault. He had done this. He had to be the one to make it right. At the very least, because there were so many layers built into Worth's mind by then. They had to be torn out, one by one.

Conrad apologized to Toni, as sincerely as he could. For sex with a girl, it had been... Kind of nice. A soothing break from all of the mess with Worth. She was a little rough-and-tumble, which was enough like the real Worth to appease Conrad, but sweet enough that he didn't feel threatened by her. For a one-time thing, he could not have asked for more. And before she left, Toni kissed him on the cheek, murmuring that she would always be there if Conrad ever needed her.

As soon as she was gone, Conrad called Ellen, explained that he would like to schedule a joint meeting with Worth at the earliest convenience. A couple's intervention. He confessed to her that he had to make things right. Ellen said nothing, neither condemning Conrad for what they had embarked upon, or what they had put Worth through, nor soothing him in this moment of his realization.

Ellen scheduled the meeting for three day's time.

-.

Conrad was sitting on the couch in Ellen's home office when Worth walked in. Worth looked him right in the face, and there was a flicker of disbelief, and then disgust, and then just nothing. Conrad flinched internally, but somehow he managed not to react, not so Worth could see it. Ellen bid Worth sit down next to him, and with some reluctance, Worth joined Conrad on the couch.

"All right," Ellen said, her voice far too cheerful for Conrad's liking. "This is officially couple's therapy."

"Aye doan' believe Aye consented ter this," Worth objected, delivering the line as smooth as a dream.

"Please Lu- Worth," Conrad said softly, seriously. "Just one last session."

Worth looked at him, and Conrad was sure the real Worth would maybe have punched him, and then left. But there were still enough layers of the snare draped upon this person masquerading in Worth's skin to keep him seated, and for that Conrad couldn't help but be thankful.

"Would this be easier for you if you were hypnotized first?" Ellen asked Worth, like a kind mother.

Conra didn't know if he should be happy that she didn't explain that Worth /needed/ to be under for him and Ellen to undo all of what was wrong.

"Why not," Worth muttered.

It wasn't the most welcoming acceptance, but Worth straightened his back and turned to face Ellen fully, his posture bidding her go on, get it over with.

Ellen produced the pocketwatch, began swinging it gently before Worth's face. Conrad looked away, unable to watch, even as the slim silver disc swung to and fro seductively.

"Listen to the sound of my voice," Ellen began, same as always. "You are falling into the trance. You will remember everything we discuss when you awake. You are falling deeper into the trance. All of the suggestions will be plain to you. You are falling deeper into the trance. One. Deeper. Two. Calm, serene, deeper. Three. You are under the thrall."

Even as she said it, Conrad looked over, saw that Worth's eyes were closed, even if he could also see the movement of those orbs beneath the man's eyelids. It was jerking, stuttering, as if Worth was sleeping fitfully.

"What is your name?" Ellen asked.

"Luce Worth," Worth replied, smoothly, in a soothing sort of sleeper's drone.

"Are you in a relationship with Conrad Achenleck?" Ellen asked next.

"Yes," Worth said first, then continued. "Aye was, rather. Aye wouldn' say Ah'm in any sorta relationship now."

Conrad was a bit surprised by the honesty. Worth hadn't said anything as vicious as that in his company for such a long time.

"Do you like Conrad?" Ellen asked.

"Yes," Worth said again, in the soothing tone. Then he frowned, eyes still closed, and spoke again. "Aye remember. Yeh tole me Aye had ter like Conrad. An' be nice ter him. An' not argue wiv him more'n maybe a lil' bit."

"Forget all of that," Ellen told him, her voice soothing, but at the same time commanding.

"Ferget?" Worth said, like it was a question.

"Forget it all," Ellen confirmed.

A strange look spread across Worth's face, like he was literally deleting something out of his head. Conrad wondered, for a brief, panic-stricken moment, what Worth would actually remember when this was through. Would he maybe forget all of it? Those whole two years? For all the parts that were bad and that had filled Conrad with guilt, some parts had been really good. He wanted to be able to keep those, and if Worth forgot, it was like none of it had ever existed.

"He won't—" Conrad cut in, but Ellen cut him off with a hand, and a "not yet" look.

Ellen continued in that vein, bringing up one suggestion at a time, asking Worth how he felt about it, asking Worth to describe it. As soon as Worth himself had quantified what it was those voices in the back of his head were having him do, Ellen told him to throw it away. Each time he did it, and Conrad swore he could see things melting off of Worth, even though outwardly the man did not change. At last, at long last, Ellen seemed to be done.

"I think there's someone you should talk to," Ellen said, in that same soothing voice.

Ellen gave Conrad another look, gestured for him to speak up.

"W-Worth?" Conrad said, unable to stop his voice from shaking.

"Connie?" Worth asked, a hint of his old scathing edge inhabiting the word.

Conrad couldn't describe what a relief it was just to hear it.

"I'm sorry," Conrad sobbed out, before he could stop himself.

"Yer sorry fer wot, fagula?" Worth asked. Like he'd forgotten it all, in truth.

"Oh god," Conrad gulped. "Do you remember? Do you remember f... F-fucking, and my condo, a-and the dinners, and all of it?"

"Yeh really are a fag, Connie," Worth told him, with his eyes still shut. "Yeh cain't even dom righ', fuck. Try it again. Yeh woan' like where it goes, princess. Ah'll make yeh regret ev'ry dirty thought."

There was still something soothing to Worth's vicious tone, to the fact that he clearly did remember the things they had done, even the ones that Conrad had instigated when he was on the edge of breaking down. But at the same time, it was all wrong. Worth was being far too honest. It was vicious, but not nearly smart enough, not enough thought put into how to hurt Conrad in particular.

"I can't take it," he objected loudly. "Wake him up, I can't take this. I just want things to be normal again."

Ellen gave Conrad a long, appraising look, but in the end she seemed to accept what she saw.

"Worth," Ellen said, and Worth's head turned back in her direction, even if he was unseeing. "Listen to the sound of my voice. At the count of three, I will clap my hands, and you will awake. One. Rise higher. Two. Come to the surface. Three."

Ellen clapped her hands, once, sharply, and Worth's eyes popped open as if he'd never been under.

"Wot was Aye sayin' when yeh offered ter put me under?" Worth asked, like none of the conversation just then had happened. Then he frowned, as if it was all flooding back in. "Fuck. /Fuck./"

For long moments, all three of them just sat there, the silence stretching out, a painfully taut wire just waiting to snap and rebound on someone.

"It's bin..." Worth said slowly, his voice starting out low and going lower. "Bin two years since Aye firs' came ter this place."

Ellen and Conrad both nodded but Worth wasn't really looking at either of them.

"Conrad..." Worth looked up, eyes slowly focusing on Conrad's face. "Yeh recommended a therapist fer me. This was yer doin'."

Conrad could only nod again, gulping convulsively, swallowing so hard but it wouldn't work, it wouldn't work and his world was ending and he knew it and he'd caused it.

"This was yer doin'," Worth said again, flatly.

Conrad couldn't even nod that time, just gulp again and swallow back the certainty that he was about to start crying, in front of Worth and everything.

Worth did not attack him. Not verbally, and not with his fists. Instead Worth stood smoothly from the couch, one concerted motion.

"Yeh migh' wan' ter find a new source uv blood," Worth stated, cool, detached, but with a deadly undertone. "Come tomorrow, Aye think all th' baggies are gunna find themselves mysteriously spiked wiv rohypnol. Aye reckon yer not gunna like wot happens after that."

Worth moved to the door, didn't look back, but for a last moment he paused. "Vamp organs ain't good fer much, so Aye s'pose Aye'd 'ave ter do somethin' else. Reckon Aye kin be righ' creative wiv my wits restored."

It was a clean enough threat for Conrad.

Worth stalked the rest of the way out of the office, and a miute later Conrad could hear the front door shutting behind the man. He didn't even know where he'd go for blood; he'd been feeding off of Worth for two years. Two whole years... All of it...

It would all remain real, yes, but it seemed for Worth the memories would not be so fond.

"I don't tell you what to do, Conrad," Ellen spoke, calling Conrad's attention back to her. "I'm not actually your parent, for all that we might play at it some days. I need to let you succeed or fail by your own actions. Although perhaps I should not have helped you with this."

Conrad could agree with that, but at the same time, he could not fault Ellen. He'd taken advantage of her skill, and ruined everything.

"It was too much for me to resist," Ellen murmured, like she wasn't speaking to Conrad any more. "A test of my control, to see if the ultimate suggestion could be ingrained, over weeks and months. Years. I should have known that it would end in misfortune. Meddling with other minds always does."

Listening to her, Conrad had a sobering thought. He'd told Ellen exactly what he wanted, but she had done it. He was not displacing blame for himself, for taking two years of Worth's life and filling him with memories he might rather forget. But he suspected, just then, that maybe this was not as simple as he thought.

Hypnotherapist was a very human occupation. But it was not mundane. Ellen was so extraordinary; might she be something supernatural herself, some psychic creature who could place those controls on Worth's will, as simple as breathing?

Ellen wasn't paying attention to him when Conrad left her office. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to talk to her again, not ever. Not unless he summoned the nerve to ask her if she was fully human.

-.

Worth's mind felt crystal clear, like he was on the best drugs money could buy, better. He wasn't even angry with Conrad, not any more. It had bled away as soon as he left that room, left that witch of a therapist. He could tell that it would come back, that he was in a transitive state that would not endure. While he was still feeling good, he headed for Lamont's apartment, where he could rattle out some bullshit explanation for the whole thing with Conrad, and where Lamont would pretend to believe him.

With his thoughts high as a kite, Worth reckoned he could punch Lamont once or twice, egg his best and oldest friend into some good, old-fashioned break up sex. It had been a long time since his college days, when every break up had been followed by the most violent, incensed fucking Worth had ever known. It seemed like a good time to resume the tradition.

After that, he'd move his practice. Perform some scare tactics on Hanna, see if he could maintain his privacy. It didn't even seem daunting, just then. It was as simple as turning a page, starting over. And Conrad's page he would rip out, crumple, burn. Fuel, and then like it didn't even matter. Hell, did it?


End file.
